


Dissolve

by wonderwheelzier



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Pining, Sad Ending, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Swimming Pools, actor/comedian!richie, author!bill, emo bill, hes just friends with audra theres no cheating or anything, only partly tho its mostly hollywood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 13:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20136169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderwheelzier/pseuds/wonderwheelzier
Summary: After eight years of radio silence, Bill Denbrough finds himself at the same Hollywood party as his once best friend, and his first and only love, Richie Tozier. As adolescent memories come flooding back, Bill has to decide what he wants to do with this second chance.





	Dissolve

**Author's Note:**

> i had so much fun writing this!! thank you so much to all the mods of the big bang, yall did such a great job putting this together!! you're amazing!! and thank you to xan for the beautiful artwork!!

2019, 27 years old

Bill hadn’t done this in over a year. His cursor hovered over the Netflix preview, not yet playing the movie, but even with just that his voice rang through his ears. He was listening through his tinny, old headphones, yet his voice was still as mesmerizing as it ever was. Deeper than Bill had ever heard it. More refined than any of his childhood Voices. His range and talent really blew Bill away - he deserved everything he had, every dollar, every award, every friend. Bill’s breath caught the way it always did when he came on screen. The years had been kind to him: he’d grown into that big mouth of his, his eyebrows were strong and expressive, his face angular and defined - perfect for a screen. But it was his eyes that really got Bill’s heart racing. He could imagine them wide and alert as he concentrated on a video game, sparkling and coy as he told a lewd joke, staring right into Bill’s own as he listened, intently, just as he always had. Even though they never looked directly into the camera, even knowing they couldn’t really be looking back, Bill felt incredibly vulnerable just seeing them. He used to think those eyes would never fall on him again, but he’d just learned that he’d been in the same room as those eyes, that laugh, that smile in just two nights. He’d be seeing _ him _, for the first time since they were teenagers, in just two damn nights.

Richie Tozier. Academy award winning actor, late night comedian, humanitarian, and Bill Denbrough’s first and only love.

2009, 17 years old

Bill tried to tune out the shouting, the cheers, the jeers coming at him from all angles. He tried to focus on aiming the small plastic ball in his hand, tried to focus on getting it into the cup at the other end of the table, but even though all the cups were filled with was various types of soda, Richie’s hand on his shoulder had Bill feeling drunk. “Come on, buddy, you got this.” Richie’s warm, grape soda breath tickling Bill’s ear wasn’t helping. However, one glance into his blue eyes did. If there was anything Bill Denbrough was, it was competitive, and he didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to make Richie smile, to make Richie throw his arms around Bill the way he knew he would if he got this ping pong ball into one of Beverly and Mike’s cups. Bill refocused then, sending the ball flying into one of the red cups. The satisfying plunk was followed by an excited, triumphant holler from Richie. Just as he predicted, Richie’s arms flew around Bill. He even pressed a loud kiss to Bill’s cheek, making the latter blush and shove him away. 

“Ugh, it landed in the pineapple cup,” Bev groaned, sniffing at the cup in distaste.

“Hey, that’s liquid gold there, Marsh, and I stand by it,” Richie said, dusting off the ball he was about to throw. Turning to Bill then, he dipped his head down and whispered with a conspiratorial grin, “Alright, gimme some of that luck, Big Bill,” and held his ping pong ball up to Bill’s lips. Bill rolled his eyes, but he pressed a kiss to the plastic and shot Richie a _ happy now? _look. 

All joking looks and facades fell once Richie’s eyes left him to focus on his shot. He loved watching Richie like this: his glasses low on the straight bridge of his nose, his tongue poking out past his lips in concentration. Bill thought he might choke on his tongue as he watched Richie brush his curls out of his face to get a better view. As everyone else’s eyes followed the ball, Bill’s eyes stayed on Richie, taking in his joyed expression as the ball landed in a cup. Bill beamed back at him as Richie pulled him into his arms. “Did you see that?” Richie exclaimed. Bill was glad it was a rhetorical question because no, no he had not seen that.

The joy of Richie holding him was short lived. He felt Richie being tugged away from him, at the same time he heard the shrill voice of Carol Anne, Richie’s new girlfriend, congratulating Richie on his “amazing shot.” 

Bill watched as Richie’s arms slipped from his shoulders to Carol Anne’s waist, pulling her into his side. “All for you, sugar,” he purred in her ear, making her giggle before he kissed her. It made Bill’s stomach turn. 

Every touch after that was bittersweet, Bill’s body both drawn to Richie and recoiling from his hand like it was a hot iron. So back and forth he was nearly swaying on his feet. However, as much being close to him made him nauseous, the way Richie sat huddled close with Carol Anne once the group settled around the fire pit, completely physically estranged from Bill, was almost worse. It made the summer night feel suddenly cold, even as Bill perched his feet dangerously close to the fire. 

Bill hated this. He didn’t understand why Richie always brought his girlfriends along to hangouts that were otherwise just the losers. Bill could sense the discomfort each one of them felt every time; Richie could keep his arm around a girl all night, the other losers could be as polite and engaging as possible, but the seven of them had a bond that would make any outsider uncomfortable. It was enough to make Bill almost sympathize with her, until her face tucked into Richie’s neck and Richie nosed at her hair, and that bitter jealousy settled back in his stomach. And then it turned into a pleasure that tasted like bile. Bill reminded himself every time that a breakup would be inevitable, but he never felt as good as he thought he would when it actually happened. Because Bill knew the truth of the matter was that Richie losing and sending away girl after girl didn’t mean he was moving any closer to Bill, pull and tug as he may. 

As the night wound down and the volume lowered, Bill couldn’t help but overhear the words Carol Anne said as she leaned into Richie, her fingers in his hair: “So are you coming over tonight?” Bill’s heart sank to his feet.

“No can do, sugar lips. You know I’m sleeping here tonight.” Bill let out a relieved sigh. Richie was staying here - _ here _, with Bill, in Bill’s room, all night.

“Your parents _ think _ you’re sleeping here tonight,” Carol Anne pushed, her voice lilting in a way that suggested she and Richie were in on a joke together. Bill couldn’t help but smirk to himself as Richie refused to meet her tone.

“Because I _ am _sleeping here tonight.” To the unfamiliar ear Richie’s words still seemed light enough, but Bill knew better. Richie meant what he was saying, and he wasn’t budging.

“But baby,” Carol Anne all but whined, “I was really looking forward to spending the night with you.”

Richie gasped, and Bill could feel the Voice coming on before he even heard it. “Miss Carol Anne, are you trying to tempt me with sin?” His southern belle had Carol Anne tittering, as though Richie wasn’t using it to soften the fact that he was turning her down, to cope with his own discomfort. “I am an honest woman, and the only house I will be drawn into is the house of God.” He carried on this bit until Carol Anne laid off, distracted by her own giggles. Bill walked away, needing to distract himself before he made himself sick with his own eavesdropping. 

At the end of the night it was finally just him and Richie. Sure, he may have had to watch Carol Anne ceaselessly insisting on “just one more kiss” over and over before finally leaving with an indignant pout, but now he had Richie all to himself. He thought maybe that was selfish, but he couldn’t help the happy flip of his heart. 

That flip turned into a pounding in his chest as the two of them settled down into Bill’s bed, clad in pajamas and debating which movie to watch. Richie, being Richie, exaggeratedly cuddled into Bill’s side and stayed there for the whole movie. Bill could smell his shampoo with every breath he took; the smell of it filled his lungs, and his skin buzzed where Richie pressed against him. He could smell his grape soda breath that was somehow endearing every time he tilted his head up to make a comment, to crack a joke. It took all of Bill’s self control to stop himself from leaning down in those moments, to not kiss those purple-stained lips that wouldn’t stop running.

2019

Bill felt sick as he fell asleep that night, his cheeks flushed and stomach uneasy from all the bittersweet memories. His head swam with Richie’s voice. When he closed his eyes all he could see was his face. He struggled to understand how something could be so sweet yet so sickening. How he could miss Richie so badly yet wish he never had to think about him again. It made him so angry to think that Richie probably never gave a thought to Bill, yet here Bill was, pining over Richie like he was eighteen again. Once they reached high school all the losers had joked about how much they had looked up to Bill when they were kids, but Bill couldn’t imagine anyone admiring him they way he’d kept on admiring Richie for so many years. 

He’d tried to write that night, tried to make a dent in his current manuscript, but the only story he felt like telling was one of young love, the strongest love he’d ever known. He wanted to paint portraits of puppy love, wanted to contemplate how a person could be so present in your life just to completely vanish. He wanted to work it out on paper, just how it was possible to be so hung up on someone you haven’t seen or heard from in so long.

The regret and shame that gnawed at Bill kept him up, the memories he knew were distorted with time but which he clung to anyway, with a desperation so pathetic he disgusted himself. He shouldn’t twenty-seven obsessing over a relationship that was nearly ten years gone, but the memories were simply too vivid to wipe away. Richie’s arm casually slung around him. Richie’s laugh. Richie’s singing voice, which was actually lovely, but that he hid from the world. The memories crashed over him constantly, refusing to let him find his balance. He wanted so badly to forget.

\-------

By the night of the event, Bill was hyper aware of the bags beneath his eyes, of the lack of sleep that had caused them. Bev didn’t hesitate to mention them as she dotted concealer over his blue skin. “Late night?” she asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

She pursed her lips and brushed the makeup evenly over the puffy area. “You know it’ll all be fine, right?”

Bill clenched his jaw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“God, do you have to be such a fucking man all the time?” Bev rolled her eyes. “It’s okay to be nervous to see him, it’s natural. But he’s not the asshole you make him out to be, okay?” She put her hand up when he tried to interrupt her. “Okay,” she admitted with a small smile, “he’s still kind of an asshole, but the loveable kind, same as he was when we were kids honestly. I’m just saying he’s not gonna throw a drink in your face and tell you you’re ugly.” Bill blushed - there was no use denying that he was worried about that, he’d panic-called Bev at least three times about what he should wear, despite her repeated assurances that she would dress him to the nines. “In fact, I think he’s excited to see you.”

“You talked to him about it?” Bill’s heart really picked up at that, the shallow ricochet it had taken up all night.

“Bill, he’s my best friend,” she reminded him gently. “Of course we talked about it.” 

“Well, if he wanted to see me he’s had eight years to reach out.”

“That’s a two way road and you know it.” Bev’s words stung, but he also knew he needed to hear them. He needed _ her _ and her zero tolerance policy for bullshit. He needed a cold slap in the face after his week of moping. Bev sighed. “Listen… Make the most of tonight, yeah? I’m not asking you two to become best friends again, or for the gang to get back together, but you have a chance here, and if you blow it because you’re scared or stubborn you’re gonna regret it.”

“A chance for what?”

Bev shrugged. “Whatever you want.” 

Well, fuck. Bill didn’t know what the fuck he wanted. He wanted a lot of things - to kiss Richie, to punch him, hold him, fall to his knees for him. Avoiding him altogether was his current plan.

“Come on, let’s get you in this outfit. It’s fucking killer, if I do say so myself.” 

2009

Bill smiled to himself as he spotted Richie at his locker. “Hey, Rich!” he greeted as he bounced up to him. His happily skipping heart fell to his feet with the look Richie barely bothered to shoot him.

“Hey.” No Voice. No energy. No signature Richie Tozier spark. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“Everything okay?”

Richie shrugged. “I guess.”

“I can tell something’s wrong,” Bill insisted with a light smile, “you’re not even doing your slutty secretary voice.”

To Bill’s dismay, Richie rolled his eyes rather than laughing. “Yeah, she’s out of the office today, you want me to leave her a message for you?”

“Jesus, s-sorry for asking.” Bill’s heart raced at the stutter in his voice - he didn’t stutter much anymore, only when he was upset. He wanted to scream when he realized Richie had noticed. Richie always noticed, and Bill wasn’t sure if that was what he loved or hated most about his best friend. He didn’t want Richie to know he felt like a kicked puppy. He didn’t want Richie to feel bad for him, didn’t want him to know his stomach was sinking like a kid being yelled at. Richie was always sarcastic, it was no reason for Bill to get worked up; yet oh, the irony of the fact that Bill was just getting more worked up the more upset he got with himself.

Richie sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Listen. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to be a dick, it’s just… Carol Anne dumped me yesterday, so I’m not exactly in the mood to play comedian right now, okay? Especially not with you.” 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

_ God dammit, _ Bill thought to himself, _ don’t be happy about this _.

Richie shrugged. “Yeah, well.” 

“Do you wanna do something tonight? We can order pizza, play _ Smash _,” Bill offered.

Richie ran a hand through his hair. He looked so _ tired _. “Right now I just want to go to class.”

“Right. Okay.” 

Bill jumped as Richie’s locker shut.

\-------

Bill and Richie had gym together in the mornings, but he didn’t see Richie again until lunch. He was already lounging and laughing with everyone else by the time Bill got there, his face lit up by the signature Tozier smile, bright as lightning. But when his gaze met Bill’s it faltered - only for a moment, but it was there. Bill wished he knew what it meant. Was Richie mad at him? Or was Bill the only one allowed to see past all the flash and glare? “Didn’t feel like floor hockey today?” Bill asked as he took a seat across from Richie.

“As much as I love getting knocked in the shins repeatedly, I thought I’d have some me-time today. I’ve got a Calc test this afternoon I had to study for, so that seemed a little more important than slapping sticks with a bunch of try-hards.” He threw in a wink, and that was that. 

That is, until the end of the day, when, to Bill’s surprise, Richie sidled up next to him at his locker. “Hey, Billiam, that _ Smash _offer still on the table?”

Bill’s heart jumped. “Yeah, always.”

“_ Smash _ing!” Richie cheered, his awful British accent rearing its ugly head as he clapped Bill on the back. “I’ll bring the food and be over at seven?”

“Whatever you want,” Bill nodded, a blush painting his cheeks as he realized how that sounded.

“I want nothing more than to eat junk and smash your ass.” He made a lewd gesture to let Bill know just how intentional the innuendo was. Bill shook his head and turned back to his locker, letting his hair fall in his face in the hopes that Richie wouldn’t notice how red his cheeks were. “I’ll see you for our little tryst at seven, lover!” Richie called as he started walking away. “And don’t pick Roy this time! I get that you like the self-insert resemblence thing, but you know his pretty face distracts me too much.”

“It’s called strategy!” Bill called back, thrilled to see Richie chuckle before turning his back and heading out of the school’s double doors. 

2019

That smile was all Bill could see as he scrolled through his phone on the way to the party. He could nearly feel himself shaking as endless Instagram posts of Richie’s lit up the dark cab. Videos of him on talk shows. Pictures of him on red carpets. Promotional posters for his new Netflix comedy special. Looking so happy in all of them. Bill wanted to be happy about that, wanted to be glad Richie was happy, but it was just such a painful reminder of how much of Richie’s life he had missed out on. Bill couldn’t help but wonder what went through Richie’s head on a daily basis. Did he ever think of Bill? Apparently he’d talked about him with Bev, but that was hardly shocking. Before that, did he think of Bill in the past however many years? Did he miss him? It was a selfish thought, Bill knew, a pathetic one even. And while realistically he realized that he would never know, that it would remain just another mystery of life, it frustrated him to no end that he may never find an answer. That he would probably never know Richie the way he used to.

But then, had he ever _ really _ known him? Bill liked to think Richie let his guard down around him far more than around anyone else, but he was still always a fortress. Sometimes Bill thought Richie had secrets he didn’t even let himself in on. It puzzled him, how such a private person could be so comfortable in the spotlight, enough to crave it, chase it down. It was almost chilling to think that maybe he never knew what Richie wanted, what was important to him. How he ever survived clinging to someone when he could never quite be sure just how much he meant to him was beyond Bill. Richie had to have cared about him, of course, and he showed it in his own unique ways; but Bill would’ve done anything for Richie. And he thought Richie felt the same way, but if he had, wouldn’t things have turned out differently? Had Bill asked too much? Had he _ been _too much?

But he’d been asking himself these same questions for years, and he knew they didn’t have answers. He hastily closed the app, as though he was looking at something wrong, something he shouldn’t have seen. Maybe he had been. But no, Richie’s profile was public, and Bill apparently hadn’t been blocked, so it was fine, right? He tried to convince himself, but he still felt dirty. There was distinct guilt that clung to him, crawled over his skin. God, he really needed to get off social media. 

His own cologne filled the small space; in his panic, he’d applied twice as much as he probably should have, and it wasn’t doing his turning stomach any favors. He considered asking the driver to pull over for food, then considered asking him to just turn around and call it a night. Maybe his stomach felt so awful because he genuinely was sick.

But this was an important networking party. It wasn’t just about Bill’s personal life, or his past coming crashing into his present. He thought about what Bev had said. _ A chance for whatever he wanted _ . Yeah, right. A chance to go back to the way things were. To do it all over again. To somehow make him stay. Bill knew he didn’t have a chance like that. He didn’t think he even _ really _wanted a chance like that, if he was being honest with himself, but he couldn’t help giving into the sickening sweetness of the fantasy. It was nice to cling to something so pure, even if it had never been the shiny, perfect thing he reshaped in his mind. His memories were his, his to control and shape and revisit, and now those fantasies that he clung to were about to be upended. He didn’t know how, and wasn’t sure he was prepared to find out. He figured nothing might happen, maybe he and Richie wouldn’t even be in the same room at the same time, and Bill would leave the party entering another Richie-less decade. As afraid as he was to see him, the latter possibility made him feel even worse.

His heart leapt into his throat as the car stopped. Through the window he could see the estate, could faintly hear the music thudding, the laughter falling from the open windows. All of the poetic and flowery and tragic thoughts Bill had fabricated leading up to this, and now the only thought he could form was _ fuck. _

2009

By 6:45 Bill was weirdly nervous, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want to feel nervous around his best friend. He wished there was a way to quell the butterflies, to stop his heart from racing. He reminded himself that Richie didn’t need that from Bill right now - he was in pain, and he needed a friend. That’s what Bill was to him.

After what felt like hours of agonized waiting, the doorbell finally rang, and Bill bounded down the steps. As he passed the kitchen he noticed his mom packing up leftovers from the dinner he hadn’t been called down to. He opened the front door to find Richie leaning against the railing, a pizza box piled with bags of candy balanced precariously in one of his hands. When he saw Bill he pulled his glasses down his nose and looked Bill over with a greeting of, “My god, you look blurry tonight.” 

Bill rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let Richie in. “You flatter me,” he said, deadpan.

“_ I _ flatter _ you _?” Richie gasped with a hand to his chest. “You’re the one holding the door for me like a proper gentleman.”

“Yeah, because you never close it all the way.” Bill smiled as he clicked the door shut and followed Richie, who was already bounding up the stairs, his legs climbing them two at a time.

Once in his room, Bill began setting up the game on his TV as Richie lounged in his bed, his head tilted back as he ate his first slice of pizza. “If you get sauce on the sheets you’re washing them,” Bill warned, as if he didn’t give Richie the same warning all the time.

“You’re just gonna get ‘em all dirty again once I’m gone,” Richie said, his mouth full. He made a lewd jerking off gesture to emphasize what he meant, as if Bill didn’t get it. He turned back to the TV until his cheeks cooled down, then joined Richie on the bed. “Aw, why do you get to be player one all the time?”

“Because it’s my house.” He tossed Richie the yellow controller.

“But I’m heartbroken,” he pouted.

“So you want the blue controller then?” Bill asked, his eyebrow arched knowingly.

“Fuck no, you’re not taking the yellow one!” 

Bill smirked and turned back to the TV, popping some candy into his mouth. “Then you’re fucking player two.”

“You’re heartless, Big Bill, you know that? All dick and no heart.”

“Pick your character, dumbass,” Bill shook his head fondly.

“Are you seriously picking Roy? You are so predictable. Fine, if you’re going Roy I’m going Marth. My video game look-alike is gonna kick your video game look-alike’s ass.”

Bill scoffed. “You wish you looked like Marth.” 

“Okay, now you’ve insulted me. I get to choose the stage.”

Bill looked at Richie, his heart somehow melting even as he watched him stuff more pizza in his mouth. “Okay, fine.”

Things seemed surprisingly normal for most of the night. Richie was his boisterous self, and he seemed happy enough to eat candy and fuck around, but Bill wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. He had been expecting a night of comfort - though, maybe that’s what this was. He didn’t ask, didn’t want to push it. And more than anything he didn’t want to disturb the normalcy, the intimacy that was casual enough but meant everything to Bill. He didn’t want to let Carol Anne touch that, so he wasn’t going to bring it up if Richie wasn’t.

Bill had nearly forgotten all about her until they decided to call it a night. They both slept in Bill’s bed, just as they always did, as they always had, ever since elementary school. His bed was more than big enough for both of them, and Bill was so grateful for that. Even just having Richie close, being able to feel his weight dip the mattress down, hearing him shift in his sleep was a comfort, and it was enough to make Bill’s heart skip happily, surreptitiously. But tonight his heart ricocheted, knocked around his chest like a frightened bird when he felt Richie roll over, so close Bill could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He almost thought he was imagining things when he felt Richie’s knuckles lightly tracing over the knobs of Bill’s spine. He jumped when Richie’s voice cut through the charged silence. It was a simple call of his name, a whispered, “Bill?” But Bill was so tense that it shook him as though Richie had shouted at him.

“Y-yeah?” He screwed his eyes shut at the unwelcome stutter.

Richie was silent for a moment. Then, “Do you think we’ll ever love other people the way we love each other?” Bill froze. He must have misheard that, or else he was jumping to conclusions. But Richie’s voice sounded so raw, so vulnerable, in a way Bill had only heard a handful of times. “The seven of us, I mean.” A strange cocktail of relief and disappointment flowed through him, easing the tension in his muscles. Still, he couldn’t work up the courage to turn and meet Richie’s gaze.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Then, perhaps less honestly, “Hopefully. Why?” 

“Carol Anne… she broke things off because she was jealous of you. She said she never felt like I totally wanted to be with her, like I’d rather be with you guys every time we were hanging out. And fuck, she’s right. I mean making out was cool and everything, but I never felt like I needed to be with her, you know? Like she’s cool, but I never missed her when she wasn’t around, not like I miss you guys.”

_ Be a friend, _ Bill reminded himself, trying to cool his anger and righteous glee. _ He needs a friend. You’re his friend. _“Well, she can’t expect you to just ditch your friends. And it’s possible she’s just not the person for you. I mean, you’re only seventeen, Rich.”

“I know, but I don’t-” He cut himself off, and though they weren’t completely touching, Bill could feel him go stiff. Richie let out a shaky breath, and in that one breath Bill could hear enough fear to turn around. Richie looked so young without his glasses, and the way he curled in on himself made his six-foot-two frame seem small. Bill rested his hand on his pillow, his knuckles grazing the back of Richie’s. “You’re all gonna find love, you know? I don’t… I don’t wanna be left behind. I wanna know I can find something like this again when we leave for college and get jobs and shit, when I can’t come crash at your place any time I want anymore.” His lip quivered as he whispered, “I don’t wanna be alone, Bill.”

Bill chest ached, and his throat felt so thick he had to force his words through it. “I think maybe we’ll find people we love the same amount, but not in the same way. We’ll never have anymore childhood friends, you know? We’ll never meet new people who knew us in middle school. We grew up in each others’ houses; I think that’s a unique sort of love. But isn’t the idea that every love is its own thing?” Richie was still looking at him with those serious eyes that made his heart race, so he took a leap of faith and took his hand. “You’re not gonna be alone, Rich.” _ I’ll never let you be alone, not unless you want me to. _“Besides,” he added with a smile, “since when do you wanna fall in love?”

Richie gave a small laugh. “Hey, I’m talking after the babe parade ends and I bang at least three secretaries.”

“And the asshole is back,” Bill rolled his eyes affectionately.

“_ Loveable _asshole.”

“Tragically so.”

“You’re gonna be a great writer with monologues like that.” Richie smiled. “I mean it.”

“You’re gonna be a great boyfriend.” It sounded embarrassing when it came out, made Bill want to cringe, but there was no judgement on Richie’s face. Not even a hint of playful teasing. They smiled at each other, faces pressed into pillows, and Bill became suddenly hyper aware of how alone they were. It felt like they were the only ones awake in the neighborhood, in the world. He watched the smile on Richie’s face slowly drop, but his eyes didn’t stray from Bill’s face, nor did they close. He kept expecting Richie to drop his hand, to turn over, but he never did. This wasn’t exactly unfamiliar - the feeling that Richie was studying him, could see something nonmaterial in Bill, could see right through him to his thoughts and feelings. Bill was used to feeling like Richie could see more than those glasses would suggest. But their faces were so close, and the persistent question on Bill’s mind, the question of what would happen and how it would feel if he kissed Richie just then was beginning to suffocate him. So he gave Richie’s hand one last reassuring squeeze before letting go and turning back over. His pillow was so much colder than Richie’s hand had been, but he barely had time to mourn the loss before he felt Richie press himself against Bill and tangle his fingers in the loose fabric of Bill’s t-shirt.

The next morning when Richie acted like nothing had happened, Bill would remember the way Richie’s body had felt against his, seeking comfort, love. He would remember it a month later when Richie introduced them to his new girlfriend, Beth, and he would remember it ten years later as he fell asleep alone in a vast, empty, loveless apartment three thousand miles from that long-vacant childhood bed.

2019

Bill knew he would have to check into this party, had to confirm he was on a list, but it still made him wish he was home. As personal as the night felt, given certain company, he knew his invite had been primarily work related. Screenwriters, directors, and actors made up the majority of the guests lingering and mingling about the estate. Yet the whole thing felt like a middle school dance his mother was forcing him to attend. He had to check in, had to look nice, searched desperately for a face he knew. Prayed desperately to not run into his crush. It was all so childish, and that just added shame to his nerves.

Mercifully, as soon as he travelled deeper than the foyer, he heard a familiar voice calling out to him. His chest flooded with warm relief when he turned to find Audra Phillips waving him over. He beamed at her as he approached, happily wrapping and arm around her and pressing a light kiss to her cheek - her preferred greeting, he had learned early on in their friendship. Audra had starred in his very first movie, and they’d been good friends ever since. They also worked amazing well together, and they had been discussing her starring in his next project. He’d even given her some exclusive details about the screenplay despite it still being underworks and “top secret.” 

“It’s so good to see you!” Her smile was just as dazzling as her shimmering gold dress, and the lights of the room glinted off her hazel eyes in a way that was so inviting, so comforting. Bill let himself relax a bit, falling easily into the conversation. Audra introduced him to the small circle of coworkers she was with, giving Bill the opportunity to step into the networking role, a part he knew and played well. This was a script he’d studied; this was safe.

That safety shattered with the sound of Beverly’s laughter across the room.

It wasn’t Beverly’s laugh exactly that unsettled him, but rather the voice eliciting it. It seemed so early in the night; somehow Bill hadn’t prepared himself enough just yet. He knew he would never really be ready, but he still longed desperately, fearfully for one more hour to prepare, a measly ten minutes even. 

He tried to keep his gaze on the up-and-coming director, who was currently debating the merits between franchises and stand alone films, but Bill’s eyes were drawn across the room. It was a magnetic force, and he was helpless to it. It wasn’t hard to find Beverly’s fiery red curls, and sure enough, there he was next to her. It might have been Bill’s inclination toward the dramatic altering his perception, but time seemed to slow the moment he saw him. The rushing of his blood drowned out all other noise, all conversation he was supposed to be politely nodding along to. He was _ there _. It almost wasn’t real, like Bill was still just watching him through a screen. From afar he almost looked like a memory. Sure, the glasses were gone (replaced by contacts or laser eye surgery Bill wasn’t sure), but that was the most prominent difference. The suit jacket was a bit of a shock, but it was floral patterned, a more put-together rendition of his wild adolescent wardrobe. He also wore it casually unbuttoned over a purple dress shirt. Bill had always thought Richie looked nice in purple.

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring until Richie’s eyes suddenly locked on his. A shocking and cold reminder: this was not a movie, he was actually in the same room as Richie Tozier, for the first time since he was nineteen-years-old. He gave him a polite smile before abruptly turning his attention back to the conversation in front of him. He silently pleaded for Richie to not walk over to him, but apparently the universe had different plans - or at least, Beverly Marsh did.

“Bill!” she called, making her way to him through the crowd with Richie in tow. “Ugh, I did such a good job with you.”

_ Fuckfuckfuck okay, here we go _. He put a smile on his face and pulled Bev in for a hug. “You always do.”

“She’s right.” Oh god. No, Bill wasn’t ready. But he supposed he had to be. He met Richie’s gaze as he said, “You look amazing.” Bill felt frozen, and more than a little sick.

“Thanks, Rich,” he smiled stiffly. “S-so do you.” Their eyes lingered for a moment, but it felt like an eternity. Bill’s entire body ached, horribly and suddenly. Richie’s face was older; though he was clean shaven, he had the faintest shadow of facial hair that hinted at a more regular stubble. There were a few more lines around his mouth and eyes - smile lines. They suited him, matured him. His hair was also a bit shorter and more tame than when Bill had last seen him, but only just barely. For the most part, he was hauntingly familiar, a ghost visiting Bill in an eerily realistic dream. 

Eerily realistic because it was real - _ he _ was real. Those eyes were looking at him, seeing him, taking him in. Bill felt laid bare, vulnerable. And as uncomfortable as that was, Bill felt himself sinking into it almost happily, like it felt good to be pulled under by a gaze that heavy.

Bill didn’t realize the conversation had fallen silent until Bev cut in to introduce herself to Audra and the rest of the circle. Bill’s heart ached as he watched Bev and Richie charm everyone involved in the conversation, just as they always had. He watched Richie, how his smile shined, captivating everyone who fell under his gaze. He wasn’t prepared for that smile to fall to him again. It was too familiar, yet too alien. Bill had always been dazzled by Richie, no matter how horrible or gross or ill-timed his jokes. But Bill was beginning to realize that that had probably been because of the intimacy that smile used to carry for him. Seeing Richie smile used to feel like lying on a sun-warmed rock after a swim, comforting and stable and safe; but this was a performative smile, one with a purpose. This smile no longer said _ I know you, and I want to be by your side _. This smile was different, tainted by the calculations Bill could see him running in those blue eyes, still as cloudy to him as ever. Guarded. Richie had always had a screen up, even a wall at times, but the difference was that Bill couldn’t seem to get past this new one. He hadn’t been given any keys or clued in on any passwords. He didn’t want to be under that gaze anymore; this one felt like an interrogation light, like a cold lab table, and it only made Bill ache for the warm embraces his memory desperately clung to.

Apparently, though, he’d fallen for the gaze anyway, as he found himself somewhat cut off from the conversation, closer to Richie than he’d realized, Bev’s body no longer present as a buffer between the two of them. Lost in his thoughts, Bill had drifted naturally toward Richie. He’d always drift toward Richie. It was strange to think that after all these years, all the clear differences and changes, that he could still naturally float into Richie’s orbit like he was sending out a honing signal, like he was home.

Bill stiffened as Richie leaned into him, whispering a low, too friendly, “Hey, stranger.” God, how could he say that with a smile? They _ were _strangers; did that not bother him? Even just a little? But almost as soon as he thought it, Bill saw Richie deflate a bit, watched him slowly drop a layer or two of the facade. And as the chassis began to crack, Bill relaxed a bit, felt himself almost swaying nearer. Rocking, drifting, a boat carried by the natural, inevitable pull of the tides, pushed by a gentle but unyielding wind, subtle but present. The kind of drifting where you don’t realize how far you’ve gone until suddenly the shore is a distant, blurry picture. Richie’s eyes were clear as he asked, “Can I get you a drink?”

Involuntarily, Bill shook his head, any words stuck in his throat, frozen in his mind. “I uh, I actually n-need to go to the r-restroom, I’m sorry. Exc-sc-scuse me.” His face burned as he hastily turned and retreated. He could feel eyes on him; he felt like he could feel them everywhere. 

He actually did make his way to the restroom in hopes of collecting himself. Thankfully it was open, and the way the closed door muffled the endless conversations going on outside helped calm his nerves. But it was only a temporary respite. He looked into the mirror and was shocked by the face that stared back at him. At twenty-seven he was by no means old, nor did he look it, but he sure wasn’t seventeen anymore. He wondered what Richie thought when he saw him, if he was wondering where that kid went. Bill certainly was.

2010, 18 years old

Richie had been avoiding him for days - dodging his calls, missing out on plans. Bill was getting sick of it, both figuratively and literally. His stomach twisted in knots as he sat at home wondering what he’d done. Nothing had changed between them, not to his knowledge at least. Just this new silence. Things had been good, even, better than ever. Closer. So close it made Bill’s heart catch in a way that was getting harder and harder to tamp down. So close it made this new distance feel like a part of him had been violently ripped out of him. Like he was choking, his airways full. He ran obsessively through the list of things he might have done to piss Richie off, to drive him away so suddenly, but he kept coming up empty. Then, the worst worry: did he know? Had he found out? But if he had, how? Bill hadn’t told anyone, not even any of the other losers. Bill felt frozen to his mattress as he considered that maybe he was just too clingy, maybe he himself had made it too obvious, asked for too much. None of the losers were able to offer any explanation either, so Bill was left to simmer in these thoughts and theories when he should’ve been fucking around in the sun all day with Richie by his side, laughing that infectious laugh of his.

Bill was torn between texting Richie again to ask if everything was okay and not wanting to come off as cloyingly desperate. He was about two seconds away from tearing his hair out over the matter when he heard the doorbell chime. He lay frozen in his bed, deciding he’d let his mom get it. He didn’t want to get his hopes up - in fact, he wished this whole thing didn’t bother him as much as it did. He wished he didn’t feel this strongly about his friend. He wished he didn’t miss him this much after just a few days.

He jumped when there was a knock at his door. “Cuh-come in,” he called, his heart racing. The door opened slowly to reveal an almost sheepish-looking Richie.

“Hey,” he said from the doorway.

“Oh, hey.” Bill waited for Richie to come in, but he didn’t, not until Bill asked, “Is e-everything alr-right?” 

Richie sighed and walked through Bill’s room, not looking directly at him and making no move to throw himself onto the bed like he normally would. “Sorry I’ve been MIA the past few days, it’s just… Tracy dumped me.”

That familiar feeling. The smug and guilty relief, a sick sort of passive triumph. “I’m sorry.”

Richie finally looked at him, and it was one of the looks that made Bill feel a little too seen. “Are you?” Bill’s blood felt frozen in his veins, his heart stopping.

“W-w-what the hell, R-Rich?” God, he really wished he could stop stuttering, but his body was reacting so viscerally to the confrontation - because that’s what this was, apparently. He felt like he was trapped in a cage, and he didn’t exactly know who or what he was trapped in there with. He relaxed infinitesimally when Richie’s anger deflated, but he could still tell there was something coming, something he wasn’t going to like. 

Richie bit the inside of his cheek. He seemed particularly invested in the blank white canvas of Bill’s ceiling, then the expanse of his floor. “She broke up with me because of how close we are.”

Bill just barely kept back a scoff. “Rich,” he said gently, “no off-f-fense, but haven’t all your girlfriends d-dumped you because they were j-jealous of your f-fuh-friends?”

Richie shook his head. “Not because of the others. This time… this time was just about you.”

Bill felt sick. He wanted to leave. He wanted to kick Richie out, wanted, _ needed _to be alone. His skin was hot and crawling. He could hear his ears start to ring. What was Richie even saying to him? “I d-don’t get it.”

“She told me you and I were too close, closer than I was with her.” Richie met his eyes, and it was hard to tell behind everything he’d so carefully constructed, but Bill was pretty sure there was fear there. And something else, but it was too close to disgust for Bill to want to identify - not that that mattered much once Richie told him, “She told me it was weird how close you and I are. That I’d rather hang out with you than her.”

Bill’s face flushed a bright red, a heat that spread to his ears and chest. He hated this, hated that he knew it would take him nearly twice as long to spit out anything he planned to say, hated that he had to say something to that. “W-wuh-we’ve b-been f-friends since w-we were kids, R-Rich. Is she r-really sup-prised that you’re closer to m-me than to s-some girl you’ve b-been m-m-muh-making out w-with for like three w-weeks? B-because that’s r-really not w-weird to me. To m-me that’s n-n-normal.”

“But what if it is weird?” Richie exclaimed. Bill flinched at the volume of his voice, at the way he was looking at him. “No one stays with me, Bill! No one stays with me, and it’s because of you!”

Bill would’ve rather Richie slapped him. He figured he would deserve it, considering all he could think was _ good _. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? He was selfish and wanted Richie all to himself. He hated it, hated that that wasn’t what made Richie happy. He wasn’t what Richie wanted. “I didn’t realize I was f-f-forcing you to s-spend time with m-m-m-me.”

Richie bit his lip. Shook his head. Looked away. He looked hurt, and Bill couldn’t help but want to comfort him, but he stayed glued to his bed. He took a deep breath.

“If you’re really so ups-set about not getting your d-dick w-w-wet that you’d yell at your buh-best f-f-friend over it, then m-maybe you should just g-g-go.”

Richie looked at him then, like he was waiting for Bill to take it back, to say more. But Bill had nothing else to say, nothing that would matter or change anything, nothing that wouldn’t scare Richie off anyway. So he sat there, meeting Richie’s gaze with his own cold, firm one until he was shaking his head and leaving. He paused in the doorway to say, “It’s about more than just that and you know it,” before walking out. It was the last Bill would see of him until the end of the summer. He didn’t realize at that time that he was going to have to get used to watching Richie leave.

2019

After a few minutes and a knock on the door, Bill had accepted that he had to leave the sanctuary of the restroom. But that left him wandering aimlessly, avoiding that area off the foyer as best he could. He was happy to run into an old project partner - someone easy to catch up with. He was working, he reminded himself, this was one aspect of his job. Not only that, but it was supposed to be a _ fun _aspect of his job. So he let loose a bit, fell into the familiarity of small talk and conversations about a craft he knew and understood.

He had floated around the party so much that he was sure he had talked to everyone he knew there and then some. His work completed, he celebrated with food, popping a few appetizers into his mouth. Bev and Audra both found him to say goodnight as they left, leaving him adrift in the ever expansive property as the party wound down. But he didn’t want to go home just yet; somehow he knew being alone at a party was still better than going home to his empty house, lying all alone in bed. He wandered around, catching snippets of conversations here and there, letting his feet lead him. Eventually the noxious mix of perfumes became too much, and he needed to get some fresh air. 

Roof access was easier to find than he’d expected, and he welcomed the clear night air, so much crisper than the air in the city. He took his time walking over to the railing, appreciating the silence, the sound of his own footsteps. It was nice to be the only source of noise. The buildings twinkled in the distance, and Bill was glad that they were far away tonight. He let his head fall back and peered at the stars, a sight that almost brought him peace.

“You been hiding from me, Denbrough?”

“Fuck,” Bill gasped, clutching his chest. Turning around, he saw none other than Richie Tozier himself lying on the concrete by the pool, his feet kicking lazily in the water. His jacket lay crumpled next to him. Bill shook his head as he leaned against the railing and worked hard at keeping his gaze on Richie. His head was lolled back, and he was looking at Bill upside down. It made his glasses slide over his face in such a silly, achingly familiar way. And his eyes were wide as they looked expectantly at Bill. It made him look innocent, young; almost young enough to be the teenager from Bill’s memories rather than the guy on his computer screen. Realizing Richie was waiting for an answer, Bill mumbled some bullshit excuse about, “I… don’t really like parties.”

“Really?” Richie questioned. He sat up and grinned over his shoulder at Bill. “Seemed to me you were schmoozing it up in there like a pro.”

“Yeah, that’s because it’s something you can be a pro at,” Bill retorted. “It’s work. It’s not fun.”

“Wow, you must be fun at parties.” Richie winked, then patted the ground next to him. “Come on, indulge me. Fill me in on the last decade.” Bill eyed him warily. He had plenty of bitter remarks on his tongue, and thoughts of _ you could’ve called _ swarmed through his mind, but ultimately he knew that Bev was right: that _ was _a two-way street. “Come onnnn,” Richie whined, “please?” And it made Bill feel kind of pathetic, but that was really all it took.

Bill slipped his shoes off and tucked his socks into them. He rolled his pant legs up, all the while feeling Richie’s eyes on him as he sat up. He made a half hearted attempt at folding his jacket before setting it on the ground. Taking a steadying breath, Bill sat down next to him. Maybe closer than he should have, but he had no idea when the next opportunity to do so would present itself; he’d thought he’d lost this one, and he wasn’t going to turn this second chance away. Once he found the courage, he turned to look at Richie. He studied his face, how the light from the pool cast a blue glow over his skin and made the lines of his nose and jaw seem more severe. But Bill could see beneath it to that face he knew well, the one that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. He could feel time slipping through his fingers, losing its linear quality and turning to static. The past eight years came crashing down around him, and he had to wonder if he’d done them right. He was successful, and he loved what he did, but there was always something else he felt he should be searching for. There was a hole, and he knew it was the fact that he didn’t have anyone in his life who made him feel the way Richie used to make him feel. He often wondered if all of the success and work was worth it if at the end of the day it all just amounted to himself, no one else to share it with. Did Richie ever question if he was on the right track? Did he lie awake at night wondering if he had what he wanted? Now was Bill’s time to ask, but he let Richie lead. 

“So,” Richie started. He was leaning back on his hands, shoulders hunched around his neck. Casual and stiff at the same time. Bill sat up with his hands in his lap, forcing himself to keep meeting Richie’s gaze. “What’s Big Bill been up to these days?”

“Mostly writing-” Bill began, but Richie cut him off.

“Oh come on, I’ve kept up with the novels and the screenplays. I’m talking about you, your life.”

Bill scoffed. “Work is my life, pretty much. I figure you probably know something about that as well.”

“I mean yeah, of course, but you’re telling me that’s _ all _you do? You don’t spend those stacks on yoga or travelling?”

Bill considered that. “I still like biking.” It was something. A hobby, but nothing personal. A safe conversation point. “I try to do that at least three times a week. Always looking for new trails to try out.”

“Keeping in shape, huh? It shows.” His grin made Bill’s skin burn.

“Yeah, well, I spend most of my work day in a chair, so…” His sentence petered out, the small talk hanging stagnant in the air.

“You mean you’re not keeping that body toned for anyone special? You haven’t been banging the talent? No famous actor body count for you?” Bill just scoffed and shook his head.

“I don’t think that would be very professional of me.” He tried to give Richie a convincing smile, but the air felt suddenly very heavy, too hot.

“What about the ol’ love life, how’s that going?”

And out the window _ safe _went. Typical Richie to jump right into it; Bill really shouldn’t have been surprised, but his heart was already beating faster again. “No, no one, really. You?” He realized too late that he wasn’t looking at Richie anymore, that he’d become very interested in the bark on the palm tree a few feet away.

Richie shrugged. “There’s been a few lucky guys and dolls here and there. No one at the moment, though. I guess I’ve never been particularly good at holding that kind of stuff down.” He gave Bill a small, rueful smile, but it hadn’t sounded like a joke, and Bill really didn’t feel like laughing. Things were getting a little too close to home.

“You said you kept up on the novels and screenplays?” he asked, trying for a playfully teasing smile. 

“Oh, yeah,” Richie nodded, his smile widening. “Even considered trying out for some of the screen stuff.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yeah, figured I fit the bill for most of the love interests you write.”

Bill scoffed, but his face burned, and he turned away on instinct. Richie’s gaze was so heavy again. “Sure.”

“Aw, come on, I could totally rock the tall, dark, and annoyingly handsome thing your narrators are always jerking off to!”

Bill sputtered. “How much of my stuff have you read?”

Richie rolled onto his side, mischief glinting off his blue eyes. Or maybe it was just the pool lights. Whatever it was, it made something thrum under Bill’s skin. “Enough to know you have a type, and that I’m that type.”

“Bev was right,” Bill chuckled.

“How’s that?”

“You _ are _still an asshole.”

Richie laughed at that, emanating light. “Alright. Can’t say you’re wrong.” Bill didn’t really know how to respond to that, but he didn’t really have time to think about it either before the water came rushing at him courtesy of Richie’s hand on his back. 

He hit the water and the cold shock engulfed him. He tumbled aimlessly for a moment before breaking suddenly to the surface. The night wasn’t cold, but the water was noticeably warmer than the air outside. Bil brushed his now soaked hair out of his face, blinked the water out of his eyelashes. His whole body burned as he spat out, “What the fuck, Richie?” But Richie was beaming at him, and he didn’t even say anything, he just let his body lean forward and fell laughing into the water. Bill flinched away from the splash, but it was futile once Richie shot out of the water and shook his hair out like a wet dog. His blood was beginning to boil, but he really couldn’t stay mad for long. Not when Richie was smiling like that. And when he pushed his hair back, the water keeping the curls out of his face, Bill found his skin burning for a completely different reason. “Are we even allowed to be in the pool?” he asked, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation.

Richie barked out a laugh. “‘Are we allowed?’” he mimicked. “When the fuck did you forget how to have fun?”

Bill crossed his arms. “I know how to have fun, you dick, that just doesn’t include pool hopping anymore.”

“Your only hobby is biking, and you see parties as work. You definitely don’t know how to have fun.” Bill was aware of Richie moving closer to him. He was aware that he wasn’t doing anything to stop him. “Come on, Billy Boy, when was the last time you broke a rule?” He could see the traces of gold in Richie’s bright blue irises now. He could make out the aroma of his cologne over the chlorine that stuck to their skin and hung densely in the air around them. Bill felt so warm, and he could feel a pressure constricting him, pulsing in his veins. Richie’s eyes dropped to his lips. “Don’t you wanna do something reckless?”

There was a moment, a pause. This was a dare. This _ was _ reckless. But the air was charged with the sort of electricity you can feel before a storm, and it had been so _ long _since Bill had felt that. Richie was right in front of him, his full, pink lips parted just so, and for the first time in years it was just the two of them, with barely six inches between them. How could he possibly resist? How could he move away from a pull that strong?

So he dove in. There was no gentleness, no hesitancy as he grabbed Richie’s face and pulled him in. Their lips crashed together, and it was rough and it tasted like chemicals, but it felt amazing. The messiness brought with it a painful reminder, a blurred yet stabbing memory. The hunger that had been digging its way out of his chest for years was finally getting what it wanted. He had Richie close to him, Richie’s hands were on his waist holding him tight, and Bill could feel his head going light from it all. He wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck and pulled him closer. As their lips moved together, time disappeared altogether, and Bill let out a breath as he felt himself dissolve into the water. Part of him knew this was stupid, but mostly he didn’t care. He let Richie touch him, encouraged it, craved it. The more he got, the more he wanted. Richie ran his tongue over Bill’s lips, and Bill happily parted them for him. He whimpered into the kiss, and that sound had Richie pushing Bill up against the wall of the pool. God, Bill couldn’t get enough. Richie kept giving and Bill was more than happy to take it all. He got so lost in it that his hips rolled of their own volition into Richie’s. He threw his head back as he moaned, and Richie wasted no time getting his lips on Bill’s neck, all teeth and tongue and desperation. “Richie,” he moaned. He wasn’t quite sure why he said it, what he wanted. Maybe it was just for the sake of saying it. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist, the water keeping him afloat at Richie’s hands roamed over his body. He felt them everywhere, fingers that knew what they were doing, mapping him out. Deep down Bill knew this was just a Band-Aid, a piece of Scotch tape over a burst pipe. But it felt so good to be touched like this. It felt so good to have Richie close. 

Bill’s breath hitched when he felt Richie’s fingers slide down his throat to the top button of his shirt. He let him unbutton it, then the next, and the next. The cool air felt fresh over his damp skin as Richie undid him; he felt like an exposed nerve. With every button popped, more and more unwound inside of him. More and more came back to him, emotions seeping into his lust. Pain. Some sort of ghost of love. Confusion. Anger. 

Richie slid his hands over Bill’s exposed chest. Bill gasped at the shocking cold of Richie’s metallic rings against his skin. His eyes flew open to find Richie drinking him in. His eyes were hooded as they met Bill’s, yet incredibly alert. Electrified. Bill had no fucking idea what that meant, no idea what he was thinking. This was a new Richie, one he didn’t know yet was all too ready to fall into. They stared at each other, assessing, and Richie laid his palm over Bill’s racing heart. It made him ache, the way it all came rushing back. All of the laughter and love and the empty anguish of the subsequent loneliness. It was so much, and it all came rushing over Bill until he was grabbing at Richie’s shirt and pulling it apart, buttons scattering into the pool from the force of it. Richie barked out a laugh, surprised but pleased. “Damn, I missed you too, tiger.”

_ I missed you. _

_ I missed you too. _

How could he want to badly to punch him and kiss him at the same time? To push him far away, but also pull him close, lay himself out for him?

He settled for the compromise of roughly grabbing his hair and pulling him into another bruising kiss. He bit down hard on Richie’s bottom lip, and the moan he got in return had him growing hard in his pants. Richie raked his nails down Bill’s back, sending chills over his skin that crackled like sparklers. He grabbed Bill’s ass and pulled him closer. As he did so, as he pulled them flush together, Bill could feel the outline of Richie’s cock pressed against his own. His mind began to race again, dozens of conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling around and setting off sirens, but all of that chaos was quelled as soon as he felt Richie’s lips on his neck. With a moan, he melted into Richie’s touch, let himself enjoy the feeling of Richie’s hands roaming over him, the pain of Richie biting harshly down on his throat. He wondered absently if Richie was leaving marks and was surprised to realize that he wanted him to. He wanted Richie to cover him in red and purple bruises. He wanted Richie to want Bill to remember what they were doing together.

Bill took Richie’s face in his hands, brought their lips back together. He could feel Richie smiling into it. “God, you make the prettiest sounds, you know that?” he purred. 

“I want you,” Bill whimpered. His cheeks reddened as he realized what he’d said, but it only made Richie kiss him harder. His hand slid down Bill’s stomach, making him shudder. But as he began working his fingers over the button on Bill’s pants, Bill pulled back and gave out a surprised, almost shy laugh. “Woah, woah, not here.”

He watched Richie pull back. Watched the smile spread slowly over his lips - lips that Bill missed feeling on his skin already. The look Richie gave him had him ready to melt, yet also ready to run. He was so goddamn hard to read, and while that frustrated Bill, it had him wanting to keep staring. He wanted to decipher what it all meant. He wanted to know him again. He wanted to pick apart his brain and let Richie pick apart his. Everything base in him urged him to open up, to pull Richie closer, and those feelings quickly flooded out the warning bells. That’s probably why he smiled when Richie licked his lips and asked, “Yours or mine?”

2011, 19 years old

After a year of adjustment, Bill had learned that he liked college. It suited him. Maybe not the learning so much, but he liked that he got to focus on what he really cared about, and he loved seeing that passion reflected back. He liked the independence, the freedom - no more of the suffocation that was so characteristic of Derry. He could go to the library if he needed peace or a party if he needed to lose himself in a crowd. He had options.

Which is why it was such a drag to be home. He had never realized how stale his house was until he left and came back, and it was somehow even worse now that it was summer than it had been over winter break. No excuses about windows staying shut to fight off the cold. He had to face the fact that the house itself was the problem, not a lack of physical ventilation but an emotional one that he wasn’t sure would ever truly disperse.

As throughout childhood, his friends were his one saving grace. They didn’t keep in touch much over the school year, but they fell smoothly back into place once they were all really together again. Even he and Richie, it seemed, could resume the routine they’d once been in - well, to a degree, at least. Deep down Bill could feel the jagged tension that loomed, and after all they had both changed a bit, but he was content to ignore the clawing wariness in his chest if it meant taking a breath and listening to Richie drone on and on about god knows what. Maybe their gazes didn’t meet as solidly as they used to, maybe their one-on-one sessions had experienced a bit of a steep drop off, but he was there. He was there and making jokes and even winked at Bill every now and then, just like he used to, just like he always did. 

August was winding down, which meant some of the losers were leaving soon. Richie would be gone the soonest, then the others would taper off as well, leaving Bill second to last, right before Mike. Bill wasn’t looking forward to Richie leaving; there was so much he had wanted to say, so much progress he’d wanted to make that he hadn’t, and he wasn’t looking forward to sitting in Derry wallowing over his absence and lost opportunities for three weeks.

It was a few days before Richie was supposed to leave when he texted Bill. All it said was _ smash tonight? _But even just that had Bill’s heart racing. Because as soon as he accepted, it meant Richie would be in his room, alone with him, and he couldn’t help the hope that tugged at his heart, the hope that maybe things would go back to the way they had been. Maybe he still had that chance.

2019

He remembered days when his house felt empty without Richie in it. But that was a long time ago, and so much had changed; Richie felt all wrong in this new space, like a misplaced sofa. 

Bill welcomed the intrusion.

Dripping wet, they’d had to sneak away from the party and meet Bill’s driver down the street. They fell into the car, giggling and clutching each other like kids. Like the rowdy teenagers they had once been together. With the partition rolled up, their shirts came off in the back of the car, and through their giddy laughter their lips and teeth clashed together once again. And their hands, their hands were everywhere. 

But they’d had to make their way up into Bill’s house, and while there was still excitement, it was much more familiar, more subdued, less naughty and nostalgic. Bill left in search for towels while Richie looked around the space. Bill found him running his dewy fingertips over his couch. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Bill tossed a towel at Richie’s head of wet curls.

“It’s a nice place you got here,” Richie mused as he ran the towel over his hair. He slung it around his neck and continued, “Private, too. You ever get lonely out here all by yourself?”

Swallowing down the tightness in his chest, Bill shrugged and sauntered over to Richie. He ran his hand over his exposed chest, down his stomach, his eyes roaming over his body freely before pointedly meeting his gaze. “I think the privacy’s nice. Means I get to be as loud as I want.”

Richie smirked and ran his nose along Bill’s. “Right back to it then, huh?”

“I didn’t invite you here to catch up.” Bill didn’t mean to sound so cold, but he wasn’t sure he could afford to surrender to anything so verbal, not yet anyway. They were testing the waters, and he was already so close to a misstep, to drowning.

“Right.” Richie nodded, and something shifted in his eyes. Bill wanted to chase it, but he was locked out. There was no map, no Richie Tozier Rosetta Stone. Richie pulled him in by his waist, reminding him why Bill was letting him drip all over his hardwood floors in the first place. “You invited me here to get railed.” 

“You gonna deliver?” Bill challenged. “Or are you just gonna keep running your mouth?”

There was another one of those moments, one where some unidentifiable tension hung in the air between them. Richie’s eyes flickered between Bill’s. But then that smile crawled over his lips again, and Bill could relax a bit. “Why can’t I do both?” He lifted Bill suddenly and brought their lips together. Bill clung to him. He buried his face in Richie’s shoulder, tasting chlorine on his tongue as he sucked marks onto Richie’s skin. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he murmured in Bill’s ear, making him shiver. He made his way down the hall, easily finding the bedroom. “Gonna make you fucking scream.” He tossed Bill onto the bed, the sensation of flying making Bill’s heart leap before he bounced against the mattress. He watched with hooded eyes and rapt attention as Richie stood above him, his hands moving to the button on his pants. He shucked them off, and as clumsy a process as it was, Bill was mesmerized. It made his breath hitch a little; sure, Richie was maybe more suave and charming now, but here, in Bill’s bedroom, he was just as much of a gangly klutz as Bill so fondly remembered. Bill sat up and wrapped his arms around Richie’s shoulders, pulling him into a kiss, pulling him down, until he had Richie on top of him. It was a thrill to have Richie’s arms planted on either side of him. He loved the way that all he could see, all he could sense was Richie: his curls hanging around his face; his lips caressing Bill’s; their legs slotted together. The pool air clung to his hair, yet he smelled of deep cologne and something else, something that was just Richie. It had Bill’s head swimming, had him grabbing desperately at Richie for more. Richie ghosted his fingers down Bill’s chest. Bill let out a shaky moan as he felt Richie’s fingers teasing at his waistband. He deftly undid Bill’s pants, then sat up to take them off. Laying back, Bill admired the view, the concentrated hunger in Richie’s eyes as he stripped Bill of his pants, then of his boxers. Exposing more and more. Taking it in. Bill felt vulnerable like this, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he kind of liked it. It felt electric, added to the energy singing under his skin. Richie’s eyes met his, and it felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t. Like this was something they could be caught doing. And that brought with it an excitement he hadn’t felt in years. “Fuck, you look good like this.” Richie’s words went straight to Bill’s cock. His eyes fell to the prominent bulge in Richie’s boxer briefs, and with that sight his mind was cleared of any thought of taking things slow.

He sat up again and pulled Richie into another kiss. As he sucked Richie’s lower lip between his teeth, he tugged at Richie’s boxers, needing to feel him. “Please,” he murmured against Richie’s lips. “I want you so bad, Rich. Want you to fuck me.” 

He went breathless for a moment when Richie laid his hand on the center of his chest and shoved until he was pressed up against the mattress. That was new.

“Yeah?” Richie smirked as he tossed his boxers to the floor. “You want my cock inside of you?” He stroked himself teasingly, and _ god _it just made Bill’s mind even hazier with lust.

“Fuck yes,” Bill breathed, reaching out for him. He needed to touch him.

“God, I want to fuck you.” Richie draped himself over Bill, bringing their lips together again. Bill held him tight, moaning as Richie pressed himself harder against him. Their hips rolled together, their fingers getting tangled in each other’s hair; it was a mess, but Bill couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good.

“Richie,” he panted between kisses, “God, fuck me.”

Richie hummed and trailed his lips along Bill’s jaw. “I don’t know, I kinda like the sound of you begging.”

Bill was feeling so much, both emotionally and physically, and as hot as it was that Richie was drawing this out, as much as Bill had once dreamt of this moment, he needed Richie, needed to get him close and keep him there. He needed to be connected to him, he needed to feel him. And that need was making him impatient. “_ Richie _,” he repeated, his voice more of a whine than he intended.

Richie ignored Bill for a moment in favor of nuzzling his face into his neck. He gave a particularly sensitive spot a playful nip before asking, “Lube?”

“Bedside table, top drawer.”

Richie gave him a few more kisses before pulling away. They were soft, almost chaste. Bill didn’t like the time that he got to think about them as Richie rummaged around and retrieved the bottle of lube and a condom, so as soon as he could he pulled him back in. It only took a few moments, but he missed the feeling of Richie touching him. He felt so cold without it. And Richie was so, so warm. Bill couldn’t stop running his hands over Richie’s skin, through his hair. He couldn’t get enough of him, of this chance he had. Of the chance he was taking. He didn’t know where they’d be tomorrow, but tonight they were together, and Bill wanted all of him. 

He gasped when he felt Richie’s finger circle his hole, spreading the lube around before gently pressing in. Richie paused when Bill grabbed at him harder. “You doing okay?” he asked.

His eyes were so blue. They seemed so sincere. Bill missed the hunger that had been in them earlier. He needed to hold onto that primal spark, the fire, or else he’d sink into the familiarity, the warmth he was trying to so hard not to crawl toward. He couldn’t fall for it again.

With a pointed look he said lowly, “I said fuck me.” 

Richie’s jaw set, and a new glint shined in his dilated eyes. Bill’s skin prickled at the sight. The anticipation excited him.

Without warning, Richie thrust his finger all the way in. There was a brief spark of pain that brought a smile to Bill’s face. He threw his head back, eyes falling shut as he melted into the pleasure. Richie barely let him adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in again, hard and fast and deep. Bill let out a low moan. It felt so good to have Richie’s finger inside of him, to feel an ache like this; it was a good ache, one he knew. And Richie’s finger was so long, able to reach so deep inside of him. He opened his eyes to find Richie’s trained on him, and the want he found there made him feel something new, something powerful. _ Good. Want me _. 

“You like that?” Richie asked, voice dark. He added a second finger. Bill gasped at the stretch, but a high pitched moan drowned it out as Richie circled his fingers inside of him. “You like it when it hurts?”

Bill gave him a satisfied smirk. “Fuck yeah.”

Richie let out a low, affected, “_ Fuck,” _ before grabbing at Bill’s hair and kissing him again. He fucked his fingers in and out of Bill faster. Taking him apart. The room was filled with the sound of it, with the small moans that got trapped between their lips. Just as Bill began to lose himself in the rhythmic pleasure, Richie curled his fingers just so, sending pleasure throughout Bill’s entire body, pleasure that nearly lifted him off the bed as his back arched. He cried out and threw his head to the side, burying his face in the pillow. Richie chuckled and licked a slow, lewd stripe up Bill’s throat from his collarbone to his jaw. “Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, baby? God, you look so fucking good like this, all wrecked from just my fingers. Can’t wait to see how you look with my cock inside of you.” The condescension in his voice made kind of made Bill want to punch him, or at least roll his eyes, but as Richie slipped a third finger inside of him, stretching him out, getting him ready, it all just felt too good to even care. “I’ve thought of getting you like this so many fuckin’ times…”

Bill thought of all the times he’d thought about this, of all the different ways he’d pictured it. The soft, gentle fantasies, the rough ones. All the dreams he’d had, all the kisses he’d pictured. All the years spent pining over one person, and now he was here. It made his heart race to think of Richie, lying in bed, touching himself to thoughts of Bill.

He grabbed Richie’s hair and pulled him close. “Then fuck me,” he growled in his ear. “Fucking take me.”

A slow smirk spread across Richie’s lips as he dragged his fingers out of Bill and teased them over his skin. “What, no please? You gotta work on your manners, Denbrough.”

Bill looked into Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly eclipsed, dark with desire, glittering with excitement. Bill gave him a sweet smile before flipping them over so that he straddled Richie’s hips. He smirked in satisfaction at Richie’s wide eyed expression. “Look at that.” He held Richie’s wrists down, kissed lazily along his neck. “Guess I’m still stronger than you.” He kissed down his chest then, leaving little bite marks in his wake. As soon as he let go of Richie’s wrists, his hands were in Bill’s hair. Bill settled between Richie’s legs and took his cock in his hand. He let out a small, “Fuck,” as he stroked it, his own cock aching between his legs. With a coy glance up at Richie, he wrapped his lips around his swollen tip. He watched intently as Richie’s eyes fluttered shut, drinking in his low moans. He shut his eyes and bobbed his head up and down. It was heady and intoxicating, and his body hummed from the pleasure of it, warmed with pride at the sounds he was making Richie make.

Richie’s grip tightened on Bill’s hair, pulling his head up and down. Bill moaned at the manhandling. “Yeah, just like that, _ fuck _,” Richie moaned. “You like that, don’t you? You like having your throat fucked?” 

Bill gagged as Richie thrust his hips forward. It was filthy and rough and Bill couldn’t get enough of it. He popped his mouth off and gave Richie a heavy look as he teased his tongue around the head of his cock. With one last kiss to his shaft, he tossed the condom at Richie’s chest. “Fuck me.” Richie gave him a hungry grin as he tore open the foil. Bill mouthed sloppily, impatiently at Richie’s hips and thighs as Richie rolled the condom on. Richie stroked himself a few more times, and Bill couldn’t help but stare.

“God, I could come just from the way you look at my cock, fuck.” Bill’s skin burned at the rough quality of Richie’s voice, at the teasing undertones. He kissed at Richie’s thigh before biting down harshly, getting a gasp from Richie, who then tugged on his hair and pulled him up for another kiss so rough it almost hurt. “That wasn’t very nice,” Richie pouted. 

“Jesus, just shut up and fuck me.” Bill felt Richie chuckle as he pressed himself against his chest, kissing along his skin. Richie sat up and grabbed Bill’s hips, pulling him onto his lap and popping the cap on the lube again. The way he let it run down his cock before stroking himself to spread it around had Bill even more desperate to feel Richie inside of him. Desire pounding inside of him, everywhere. When he sat up on his knees, he realized his legs were trembling. Richie must’ve noticed too, because he ran his hand up and down Bill’s thigh. With his other hand, he gripped his cock and pressed it against Bill’s hole. He circled it around a bit first, teasing. As if Bill’s heart wasn’t racing enough. He gasped when he felt Richie begin to push in, when he felt himself stretching to accommodate him. He placed his hands on Richie’s shoulders to steady himself as he began to lower his hips down, to press against him. He was only vaguely aware that their foreheads were pressed together, that Richie was kissing his cheek, mouthing along his jaw. The feeling of Richie inside of him, the _ knowledge _that Richie was inside of him was so sharp, so focused, everything else turned to honey. He felt everything, and took his time. Inch by inch, taking in more and more, until he was finally sat on Richie’s lap, his cock buried so deep inside of him.

Connected.

He slowly opened his eyes. Richie’s hands were on Bill’s hips now, but his eyes were unabashedly trained on his face. Bill cupped his face in his hands, and for a moment the room was still as they both adjusted. As they both took in what they were doing. It felt almost ethereal, like something was finally being fulfilled, clicking into place. It felt like something was culminating, coming to its peak. The high before the fall. There was no taking it back now. And that felt like the best kind of trouble.

Slowly, carefully, Bill raised himself up just a bit before coming back down. Richie’s eyes fluttered. A soft moan passed his lips. Bill repeated the action a few times before he began to roll his hips. They both moaned then, both tightened their hold on each other. “Richie,” Bill whispered.

“I’ve got you.” His hands were guiding Bill’s movements now, firm and sure on his hips. But his words had Bill crumpling, burying his face in Richie’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around him, twisted his fingers in his curls. Just three words, and not even particularly specific or significant words, but every word Richie said weighed on him, made him want to take them apart and analyze every little hidden meaning, intended or otherwise. Everything he said had Bill feeling more than he wanted to. Right now Bill just wanted to feel him, wordlessly. Richie had always been able to pull the rug out from beneath Bill’s feet without even trying, like it was a specialized skill, and apparently that hadn’t changed about him. Bill felt like he was swimming on a beach on a rough day when he was with Richie, constantly being beaten down and tossed through the water, not knowing which way is up until the air and sun come rushing back to you. And just as Bill caught his breath, just as he wiped the salt water from him eyes, just when he thought he’d mastered the ebb and flow, another wave came barreling through, leaving him barely enough time to take a breath and dive, to navigate the turbulence. With every sweet syllable Richie uttered Bill felt himself being dashed against the rocks and broken shells that formed the shoreline, leaving him covered with cuts that immediately filled with sand and salt, stinging. And god, it was such a rush, but Bill’s lungs longed for just a few moments to breathe, his legs craved steady ground that would stop disappearing from beneath him. He needed some semblance of control over himself. But how can you tame an ocean? How can you fight against the push and pull of the waves? He felt like a kid again, overconfident, in over his head. 

But he was also just as stubborn as he’d always been, clawing for control. He could handle this. This was Richie, his friend. His _ best _friend, at least he had been once. There was a time when they knew each other better than anyone else. No one had ever frustrated him more, but no one had ever loved him more, either. And that was a contradiction Bill had never been able to truly get his mind or words around. 

But this wasn’t something that required thoughts or words; those were only tripping him up.

So he rocked his hips faster, dropped himself into Richie’s lap harder. He sunk his teeth into Richie’s neck, bruising his thin, soft, warm skin. Richie moaned and dug his fingertips into Bill’s hips. It hurt, to the point that he knew it would bruise, but the hurt was dizzying, amazing, and he leaned into it. “That’s it, baby,” Richie encouraged, his voice low. “Fuck yeah, just like that.” Bill could relax then, pleasure and something else, something smug flooding through him. Something proud. He trailed wet kisses over Richie’s neck and collarbones. Small shocks of pleasure rolled through him as the tip of his cock dragged over Richie’s stomach with every bounce. Bill pulled away just far enough to watch Richie’s face, to bask in the ecstasy that was written all over it. Richie ran one of his hands up Bill’s chest, then went to caress his cheek. But Bill caught him by the wrist before he could. He kept his eyes trained on Richie’s as he kissed the inside of his wrist, making his way along his palm before wrapping his lips around one of Richie’s fingers. 

For a moment Richie just watched, entranced, and Bill felt drunk on the attention. He felt a thrill run through him at the realization that he could have Richie speechless like that, his lips dropped open in awe. But then Richie’s eyes flew up to Bill’s, and a switch flipped. Richie slipped his hand out of Bill’s grip and flipped them over so that he was on top again. Not giving Bill time to adjust to the new position, Richie pressed himself even further into Bill, pulling a moan from his lips that was surprised and _ loud _ . The grin that spread across Richie’s face then was so dark and dirty it had Bill’s cock throbbing. He picked up the pace then, fucking Bill hard and fast, reaching so deep inside of him. Bill felt himself melting into the mattress. Hands fisting the sheets. Heard his own moans filling the room. Eagerly taking what Richie gave him with a blissful, “ _ Yes _.”

“You look so fucking good like this,” Richie panted. His voice was low and breathy and rough, which was somehow so much better than the smooth drawl of Bill’s fantasies. “Love all those pretty sounds you make for me. Love that I make you feel that good.”

Bill whimpered. It all felt so good. It was all so much.

Richie leaned over so he could kiss Bill’s jaw, whisper in his ear. Bill gasped at the new angle. Instinct guided his arms around Richie, and he held him tight. “Do you like that, baby?” Richie purred in his ear. “Do you like that it’s me making you feel this good? Do you like that it’s me fucking you senseless? That it’s my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” Bill cried, his eyes screwed shut. His cock was pressed between both of them now, bringing his pleasure to a new, much more heightened level. “Yes, fuck, fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck, _ Richie. _ ” He was babbling now, his mind soft and fuzzy. All he could focus on was his steadily building pleasure. His toes curled. His nails dragged down Richie’s back, searching for purchase, for anchorage as his pleasure coursed through him, building and building, out of his control. He was at the point where he was just along for the ride, but it felt good to let go. It felt good to be lost in something so physical, something concrete. “Fuck, it’s so good, feels so good. _ Richie _ , _ yes.” _ His mind was somewhere else, his lips forming a litany of Richie’s name, _ RichieRichieRichieRichie _, like a broken record.

“Fuck, that’s right, baby. I’m here. I’ve got you. Gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

_ I’m here. _

_ I’ve got you. _

_ I’m here _.

Bill swam in those words, floated upon them with a distant smile on his face. Richie’s voice surrounded him, smooth and heated. Bill found himself submerged in it.

“You feel fucking amazing,” Richie moaned. He sat up, and another cry rang out through the room as Richie wrapped his hand around Bill’s cock. _ Finally _ , Bill thought, _ finally. _ “Gonna come inside you, baby, _ fuck _. You gonna come for me?”

“Fuck, yes, _ yes _ ,” Bill cried. Richie flicked his wrist. His fingers dragged over the sensitive ridge under the head of Bill’s cock. His cock thrust so deep inside of him, filling him up, sending warmth through his entire body. All Bill could think was _ yes _ and _ Richie _ . Just Richie. As his pleasure came to a head, as he felt himself teetering on the brink, about to break the surface, all he could moan was, “ _ Richie _.” And that was what fell from his lips as white hot pleasure set every nerve in his body alight. It was what he screamed as he came all over Richie’s fist. It was what he whimpered as he came down, as he heard Richie cursing in his ear, as he felt him coming inside of him. Just pleasure, just Richie. And he held Richie through it all, and Richie held him. They came together, a moment shared just between the two of them. A moment of nothing but pleasure and each other, the blind ecstasy of being connected.

2011

Bill could tell something was off. Richie wasn’t exactly being subtle about it. They were playing _ Smash, _sure, but Richie kept losing horribly, and he had barely touched any of the food he’d brought over. After one particularly pathetic loss, Bill gave him a gentle smile and joked, “You know, you don’t have to let me win, I’m perfectly capable of kicking your ass even when you actually try.” He bumped his shoulder playfully and added, “And it’s a lot more fun that way.”

Panic flooded through his veins when Richie looked at him without so much as a smile. He wasn’t expecting that. He had no idea what to do with the way Richie was looking at him, his eyes roaming over his face, a slight crease between his eyebrows. There was so much swimming in that look, so much Bill wanted to understand. Bill wanted to ask him if he was okay, if there was something wrong, but something told him not to speak. Though he struggled to put it into words, there was a very distinct feeling in the room, and it weighed on him heavily. He felt a sort of delicateness in it, like he shouldn’t disturb it. Richie was looking at him like a wary cat, one that might sprint away if Bill made a wrong move. After a year of near radio silence, the last thing he wanted was to scare Richie off now. So he stayed still, stayed quiet, and he let Richie come to him.

However, what Richie came at him with nearly knocked him off his bed. Richie dropped his controller and planted his hands on either side of Bill’s face before pulling him in. Bill’s eyes were still wide open when their lips met; a million fantasies couldn’t have prepared him for the reality of Richie Tozier kissing him.

It was messier than he’d imagined, but he didn’t actually mind that much. It was desperate and nervous, which was something Bill could relate to. He wanted to calm those nerves. So he slid his arms around Richie’s waist, touching him lightly, but letting him know that he was there, that he was on board. Once he was sure Richie wasn’t stopping any time soon, he let himself enjoy it. He let himself kiss Richie back. And all of the feelings he’d been fighting back for so many years finally came flooding out, and he pressed them all urgently into Richie’s lips. He clung to Richie’s shirt, clung to him so he wouldn’t float away on all of this. And as Richie ran his fingers through Bill’s hair, he thought Richie might feel the same way. He laid Bill down, draping his own body over his. Bill went with it happily. Richie’s weight on top of him was so reassuring. He felt so lightheaded and giddy, so safe. He let himself bask in the joy of this, of the possibility that all the waiting had been worth it. It was new and exciting and everything Bill had been just about ready to give up on.

“_ Richie _,” he sighed.

Just as Bill was running his hand up Richie’s chest, hoping to run his fingers through his curls, Richie pulled away abruptly, almost violently. His glasses were askew, his hair in even worse shape, and there was something wild behind his blue eyes. Bill recognized it: panic. Fear that he didn’t have time to hide, something that snuck up on him and grabbed at him. “I need to go.” And with that he was up like a shot, pulling his shoes on, not even bothering to take any of the candy with him.

Bill’s head was still reeling, and Richie was nearly out the bedroom door by the time Bill found the sense to blurt out, “What the fuck?”

Richie at least had the decency to stall in the doorway, to give Bill a pained look and mumble, “I’m sorry, Bill,” before darting down the stairs.

Bill’s mind shouted at him to follow, to pull him back. To find a way to make him stay. _ Richie, please don’t go _ , his mind screamed as his body stayed glued to his bed. His mouth remained silently dropped open. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. All he could think was _ Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave me _. As if he somehow knew that this time it would stick.

2012, 20 years old

Richie got an internship out in California. He wasn’t coming home for the summer. Bill had an internship in Boston, but he still had a month to spend at home, and it was a quiet one.

2014, 22 years old

Bill graduated with his Bachelor’s degree in English Language and Literature and a manuscript already in production. He heard that Richie had graduated from UCLA and had landed his first movie role, but it wasn’t information that was directly passed on. Bill was beginning to realize that he wouldn’t see Richie Tozier for a while.

2019

Richie was softly dozing, his body tangled in the cool sheets of Bill’s bed. Bill ran his finger lightly over Richie’s skin. Gently, so as to not wake him. He was right there, but it was like he was already gone, already a memory once again. As he lay in bed contemplating the body next to him, drowning in the emptiness of his own, Bill kept expecting it to pour, to hear thunder rumbling theatrically in the distance, but the night stayed clear. There was no rain. Nothing was going to be washed away. There would be no flowers blooming in the wake of this.

\-------

Bill hadn’t realized that he’d drifted off until he was aroused by the jangling of a belt buckle. His heart sank as he watched Richie search for his shirt, the soft morning light that streamed through the window glowing golden on his skin. He looked beautiful. Bill didn’t know how he could still recognize that through the shattering pain in his chest, but he thought it softened the blow a bit. It made the ache sweeter. He could use it, and as a cynical a thought as that was, it meant maybe he wasn’t putting himself through this just for nothing. It helped to think there was more to this than just destroying himself for one night of nostalgic revelry. 

“Morning.” 

He tried to keep his voice neutral, light, but it still made Richie jump. His eyes flashed to Bill, and for a moment he looked like he knew he’d been caught, eyes wide and shirt clutched tightly in his hand. But he smoothed it over easily. “Morning,” he smiled back. 

“You get up early.” Bill sat up and stretched a bit.

“Yeah, I’m not great at staying asleep.” He gave Bill another smile, a practiced one. One that said _ you get it. _

Bill watched him. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen this coming, Richie with one foot out the door, leaving Bill to wake up alone. Bill wasn’t sure if it was out of hope or the desire to see Richie squirm, but he asked, “You didn’t wanna get breakfast?”

Richie raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you said you didn’t invite me here to catch up.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m changing my mind. It could be nice.”

Gears shifted behind Richie’s eyes. _ Good _, Bill thought. He didn’t want this to be easy for him. This wasn’t going to be a clean getaway. Eventually Richie settled on an, “I don’t think we should.” He seemed regretful, almost apologetic, but it was also clear that he wasn’t budging.

Bill couldn’t help it. If Richie was really walking out on him again, he had to know. “Why?”

He hated how broken his voice sounded as it echoed in his ears. He hated the way it made Richie look at him, like he was a kid on his first day of kindergarten. “Listen… maybe later this week, okay? But right now I have to go.” Bill just nodded, set his jaw. “I know Bev always says it’ll never happen, but I know she wants to get the band back together. We could give it a shot sometime. Might be nice.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that might be nice.” Bill knew that he had to take the bone Richie was throwing him. He couldn’t make Richie stay if he didn’t want to. And he would love to know why he had to leave, why he always left, but there are some questions we never get the answers to. Lots, in fact. And that was something Bill knew he would just have to live with.

It hurt, to let go of all the potential, the young, newly resurrected hope. Bill could’ve loved him, if Richie would have only let him. It hurt to lose that again, to have to let it go again. Again and again. But in this moment, he had this. He had Richie sporting a morning-after look in his bedroom, surrounded by the soft, cool light of dawn. And even if he was giving Bill some awkward, half-hearted goodbye, he was still a sight to see. He wasn’t a memory. He wasn’t on a screen. He was real, and Bill was the only one who would ever know what he looked like in that moment. This moment was just between them, and the night before had been just for them, and Bill was trying to find a way to be okay with that, to take it for what it was, despite the age old anger it roused in him to watch Richie leave again. He never got to know what he was thinking, he would never know what he kept doing wrong.

Something Bill did know was that he wasn’t going to be seeing Richie Tozier for a while. So he made sure to memorize him as he left, the way he hadn’t thought to the last time.


End file.
